


An Application Not Sent

by CD64



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 09:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19315570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CD64/pseuds/CD64
Summary: An AU in which Miles did not join the military. Major General Armstrong meets a friend that Scar made during the Ishvalan Restoration, one that after her visit to Ishval continues to linger in her thoughts. A one-shot story told in fifteen parts.





	An Application Not Sent

**Author's Note:**

> The idea came to me a while ago and has not left my head at all-so I decided to quickly write this up so I could focus back to my other story.

I.

The bandage was firmly wrapped around the man’s chest and arm. The doctor had assured that he would recover from his wounds. Olivier stood there awaiting the man’s answer to her proposition, she did not know if he would consider it but it would be a good decision for the country. Reparations that most definitely would not erase the atrocities that occurred in this man’s homeland but a step forward to a semblance of peace and a relationship that could be worked on by future generations. She saw the potential of those broken bonds being mended by the Elric brothers who were able to convince this vengeful man to help in the Promise Day. The man’s face was one of contemplation, brows creased into a frown as he weighed the benefits of it. Olivier knew this man certainly wished to see his former home rebuilt but to work intimately with the man who created the most destruction through flame alchemy- the proximity would be difficult.

“I’m in.”

Olivier did not release the sigh she wanted to, but indeed feel relief at his acceptance.

“Although, I have a question, what’s in it for you?”

Olivier saw his face was resolute and his stare firm, he would not concede in his search for an answer from her. She tightened her fists, shoulders tensing a bit from her crossed arms. A bolt of sharp pain ran through her still tender shoulder, in process of healing from the damage that Sloth had inflicted. A sharp turn of her lips from that discomfort was enveloped back into her stoic face but a display of emotion she was certain Scar had seen.

“The foundation of this country was built on the notion of Father’s mad plan to gain the power of the sun, to become a perfect being. Immortal. Omnipotent. The hard truth that most of my fellow countrymen have died to fulfill these plans angers me, that the men under my command and myself have been pawns in the continuous bloodshed to attain that goal, fills me with fury. While I don’t deny the necessary blood that had to be spilled to maintain the defense and continuing existence of this country, what happened in Ishval does not fall in that category. The stripping of ranks and expulsion of military men with Ishvalan heritage weakened our forces, we lost the capability to perceive the world from lenses different from our own- a crippling mistake for us. My assistance in this, with some monetary aid from my family, could begin a different foundation, one of unity that would some day persuade some of those in Ishval to share those different world views with those from Amestris.”

Silence followed as Scar considered her words and then offered her his hand.

“To the start of that new foundation.”

Olivier shook his hand in a firm handshake.

“A new foundation.”

II.

Olivier stood on the front steps of the Armstrong mansion. Today would be the day that Scar would head out to Ishval with Alex. An endeavor that Alex gladly volunteered for to ensure that Scar would arrive safely over there, the last thing they needed was for him to be apprehended along the way, he remained a wanted man after all.

With his suitcase stowed away, Alex tuned to his older sister, eyes already watering with tears. A disgusting display of emotion that Olivier could not fathom in how open he was in showing.

“I will miss you dearly sister, who knows when I’ll be seeing you again.”

 _Good riddance._ Olivier thought. Her train back to Briggs was scheduled for the following morning, the last thing she wanted was for Alex to see her off at the station; that would’ve been a more theatrical send-off than she could bear.

“Don’t mess this up.” Olivier warned and before she could even attempt to evade the heavy logs he had for arms; she was enveloped in a suffocating hug. She heavily stomped his foot and gave him a quick kick in the shin, a harder one than the one she had given him in Central Command. Despite the obvious pain he was certainly in, he continued to hold her, leaving her to simply stew in her anger. After what lasted a lifetime to her, he finally released her and stepped back. She was pleased at the slight limp he sported and knew the pain would linger for a few days judging from the swollen bump that was steadily growing on his shin.

As he trotted to the car, she caught the sound of someone’s footsteps approaching.

“What I wouldn’t give to have my brother back.”

Scar stood a few steps to her right, donning a heavy coat that covered his face. He was more relaxed than ever before and dare she say it, he looked eager to return home even if right now it was nothing but a desolate wasteland.

“You can have mine.”

“An offer that you surely don’t mean.” There was a small upward tilt on his lips, as if he thought her interactions with Alex were amusing. Olivier’s irritation grew, she was a not anyone’s entertainment.

“I’m pretty sure, I do. Although, fair warning, he cries a lot.”

“A gracious offer that I regrettably must refuse.”

Olivier snorted. She had seen herself when Alex’s extroverted displays had been to much for even Scar.

“He’s a good man though.”  
She remained silent. That was something that she could recognize in her brother, good but weak.

“And so are you. A good person as well,” Scar continued. “Despite how hard you try to make sure people don’t see it.”

Olivier huffed. She was getting tired of Scar too. The man was too observant and had the uncanny ability to read past people’s walls, occasionally sometimes hers.

“Thank you for your hospitality and aid for Ishval.”

He offered her his hand in farewell.

“Don’t forget to inform me of the progress.”

Olivier let go of his hand after their handshake.

“I won’t.”

With those last words, Scar climbed into the car an a few seconds later, a cloud of dust was Olivier’s only companion. She turned and faced the large Armstrong residence and after a quick moment of deep thought she walked back inside, there was a lot of work to be done.

III.

Olivier had been at Briggs for a month when Scar’s first letter arrived. The first order of business she had done in Central was writing the death notifications of her deceased soldiers, an unpleasant task. She had returned to Briggs with little more than half her the men she had taken with her, a depressing fact. The gaping holes she had in her units was the first thing to fix and the continuous work at Briggs helped to be a distraction for the men. Morale was a bit low as grief settled in, but they did not let that interfere with their sustained defense from Drachma. Olivier was immensely proud of her men now more than ever.

Olivier had been in the research and development department when the letter was given to her by her right-hand man, Henschel. She opened the letter at once while she handed Henschel the clipboard to continue the testing on the new weaponry on the tanks that had finally been installed. Their work had been delayed several months back due to Father’s maniacal schemes and she was determined to slowly catch up.

_…The destruction in Ishval will take years to recover from and from what’s left is despondent to see. Leading, is not something I would ever have taken upon myself to do but it’s a position that I’m taking increasingly as people look up to someone that looks like them instead of the blue coats of the military. In this regard, Mustang is grateful of my presence. Some Ishvalans have made their way home, wearied and full of unease. The trepidation they still have, will take months and years-or probably a lifetime to heal…_

There were other things about the people that were there already and those making their way, Olivier wished the best outcome for the restoration. She knew it would be easier if they had someone that was one of them in the military, a small connection, but Bradley ensured that wouldn’t be the case when he passed Order #3066. While she had worked with others that were Ishvalan, the instances were small, and she didn’t even have a soldier who could claim that heritage in her command. She now wondered what she would have done, as a commanding officer with the order given the circumstance.

Besides the conditions over there, which weren’t great for right now, there was a few bit and pieces of the way Mustang’s team was working on this huge mission. To right the wrongs of their military was not easy and from what the letter said, plans and procedures were gently taking form.

Olivier had been thinking of sending off a few of her men down there but a quick analysis showed that it would not be possible until later down the line. The soldiers that remained were needed to fortify the fort, but she was already making a list of those she could do without for a few months.

IV.

The next five letters were the same. The reconstruction of some buildings had taken place and some homes were slowly being built, urbanization was making its way there. The problem that Scar was encountering was the mass of civilians who were now flooding the encampment, a small fraction of what the Ishvalan population had been but large enough to be a problem should they find disagreement with the soldiers. While most of them, minded themselves and other rolled their sleeves up to help the soldiers, Scar had mentioned a few that had been pests for the past few weeks. A rising discontent at the slow process or presence of the Amestrian military, or both things. It was impressed upon Olivier that that kind of contention should be mitigated soon before it escalated to a more serious problem, but other than that, it seemed to be moving along nicely.

His next letter was different, it included the introduction of someone who had recently arrived with his sister.

_…A huge help has come from a man named Miles from Aerugo; his family used to live in Amestris in small town east of South City during the war. He traveled here with his sister and despite his initial skepticism when it came to the restoration, he has seen the efforts that Mustang and his men have done. He’s a university professor and would be a hug boon for us if he decided to remain here, he has a degree in world history, but he’s spoken to me about his research and preservation of Ishvalan artifacts during his spare time. The knowledge he has gathered and preserved over the years would be a great asset for Ishval’s history, the problem is he has no intention of staying permanently in Ishval…_

It seemed to Olivier that luck was on Scar’s side, it would be a major asset to have someone who specializes in the preservation of history over there. This Miles could immensely help in constructing some form learning structure for the school with the small group of studied intellectuals that currently resided in Ishval. Scar and several others had been resolutely against any form of curriculum that heavily followed and emphasized Amestrian teachings but while they did not want to revert to previous structures as before the war, some form of integration between the two would be done. And what better way to form this new school system than with the structure of an Amestrian school and the teachings of Ishval, Miles was a perfect fit with his background. But that was if he stayed…

Sitting at her desk, she tapped her finger in rumination. So, Scar had another problem on his plate, Olivier wondered if he would be able to convince Miles into staying. She also thought of the reason Miles would even traverse across to countries to arrive at an unfinished city to only leave after who knows how long; especially if he had initial reservations of the restoration to begin with, it was a curious notion since Scar had not written of any of that in his letter.

But since she wasn’t there to see things with her own eyes, she simply stretched her arms and left her office after a long day of work. Paperwork was starting to pick up again and the last thing she wanted was to get behind due to lack of sleep.

V.

With every letter, whatever fledglings of doubt Scar had of the man disappeared. With every word he wrote about him, she could see that he had earned Scar’s respect and that made Olivier curious of the caliber of person Miles was. Earning Scar’s respect is not an easy thing to have, so yes, she wants to see what made this different from the others that he had written to her about. Most of the others could be put into three categories for Scar: useless, decent, and useful. Scar was reserved person and so his praise was difficult to earn.

Despite his views of this man, Olivier wanted to see for herself because she trusted no one’s judgment but her own and she wanted to know what made Miles, Miles. She wondered if her curiosity would ever be sated.

Eight months after Miles and his sister’s arrival to Ishval did she get an opportunity. Buccaneer and Henschel were also able to care of the fort while she was gone. Buccaneer’s words running more on the line of _‘stop writing this off as work and fucking mooch it like a vacation.’_ The restoration was underway after two years and four months and while many homes were still under construction, a few shared ones was better than sleeping in camps, especially with the cold settling in. No one wanted a repetition of spending winter in tents, even if they were military-graded ones somewhat capable of withstanding both extremes of weather, for nothing could beat the protection of four solid walls.

With a suitcase in hand, she stepped out of Fort Briggs, icy gales sweeping the landscape. Winter was a few months away and she did not want to tread through dangerous weather, a blizzard was no joke over here despite that most people in the rest of the country underestimate it. Technically her visit would be to oversee the progression of her team, that she had sent four months ago, has done but it also gave her the chance to see the latest development in Ishval herself.

A few days of travel-changing trains and overnight stays at hotels- and she finally arrived. Olivier stepped off the train carriage early evening and looked around, there were not a lot of people on the train and off the train. She frowned at not seeing the person that was supposed to be there. Scar had mentioned that he would be awaiting her arrival. With a huff, she readjusted her grip on the suitcase, she glanced down at the sand underneath her boots, giving a slight brunch as they grazed against the cobbled stones of the station.

“Major General Armstrong?”

Olivier glanced back up. The man before her was tall and broad-shouldered, with his hair in a high and tight ponytail. His sharp jaw was well-shaved except for the sharp lines of hair that extended on both sides of his cheek, a far different facial cut she had seen on a man, but it suited him well. His eyes held a warmth despite his stiff stance and straightened arms, in short, he was handsome- aesthetically speaking.

“Yes.” Olivier frowned, suspicious as to how this person recognized her by her rank and last name.

“I’m Miles, I was asked by our mutual acquaintance to come and pick you up.”

“Scar sent you?” Olivier raised her visible eyebrow in surprise, Scar was not the kind of person to stray from his words and she wondered what made him unable to come himself after he stated in his letter that he would be there.

“Scar?” It was now Miles’ turn to furrow his face in confusion. “Oh! You mean Atlan. You know, I have quite forgotten about his notoriety before the restoration, it’s easy to since he’s become a vital pillar in the community. He’s ill right now, he got a bad chill after being caught outside on a particularly windy evening a few days prior.”

Olivier mentally cursed herself at her confidence with her continued usage of the name given to him by the Amestrian military when he had been a wanted man.

 _Well, still is._ She mentally corrected herself.

But then again, he hadn’t offered her one and gave her permission to freely use whatever she preferred. She wondered if Scar had introduced himself by his given name to Miles or if Miles simply heard others speak the name and chose to use it. Olivier would be peeved if he had introduced himself that way.

Judging by the expression on her face, Miles was able to follow her train of thought.

“His former teacher provided his name for me. The man himself has a rather laconic nature, so it always made me wonder what kind of person he would write numerous letters to.”

“They’re not love letters.” Olivier sneered. To be honest, they were a more of a cathartic relief for Scar and since it held some information about Ishval, it worked for the both of them.

Miles raised his hand to rub at the back of his head and a rather embarrassed smile appeared on his face. “That was not what I was implying. He speaks highly of you that’s all and of the help and hospitality you and our brother gave him prior to moving back here.”

“It was nothing.”

“It was not nothing to him. Many here would also feel indebted to you for saving his life, he’s been a great help for the people, from what I’ve heard before I arrived and from what I’ve seen myself.”

Olivier gave a small nod, not acknowledging or dismissing his words. “Can we be on our way now?”

“Of course!” Miles looked a bit mortified. “My apologies.”

Miles stretched his hand to offer her aid in carrying her suitcase. Olivier simply raised her eyebrow to his gesture. She gave him credit when he didn’t seem cross at her denial, as many men in her experience often did- unsubtle as those fools often were when they tried to hide it behind a flash of a smile. Miles merely lowered his hand back down and beckoned her to follow him to the car.

The ride was pleasant, Olivier had to admit. The silence was companionable, and Miles elevated himself in her eyes when he did not fill the quietness with useless chattering. She was tired of sitting so she was grateful that this would be the last stretch of it. The rigid structure of regular military life was not heavily enforced here, so she would be boarding in the house Scar, Miles, and his sister were currently living in. A four-bedroom house that would be the home for a sizable family one day.

Miles slowed the vehicle into a smooth stop in front of the house. Olivier studied the exterior of the house, despite not having tiles of vibrant colors as decorations- she had seen a few photos of Ishval before the war- it was made up in the detailed carvings it had around the doorway and windows. Intricate geometric shapes and structured patterns that looked pleasant to the eyes and added an exotic beauty to the house.

Making her way inside, Miles showed her towards the kitchen where a violently ill Scar was bundle in a chair with a bowl of soup in front of him. He looked dreary and downright miserable. He looked like shit and Olivier could relent in her annoyance for his failure in picking her up. He was not alone though.

Olivier surmised that the young woman with him was Miles’ sister although there were no easy similarities between the two siblings to be seen. She was petite, fair-skinned with chocolate-colored hair and hazel eyes.

Scar gave a pitiful nod in acknowledgment, too congested as he was to give a proper greeting.

“Hello.” Miles’ sister had walked across the room to extend her hand in welcome. “My name’s Mina, pleasure to meet you.”

Olivier reciprocated the offered hand and gave Scar a passing nod. “Pleasure, Major General Olivier Mira Armstrong and you, look like shit.”

“Feel like it too.” Scar replies before looking back at his full bowl of soup.

“I’ve been trying to get him to at least drink the broth, but he’s been stubborn as a goat about it.” Mina explained. “Would you like some soup as well?”

Olivier heavily considered it; she was exhausted but also famished. Hunger triumphing over fatigue she set her suitcase against the wall. “Please, it it’s not an imposition.”

“Not at all.” With that said, Mina had turned back to the stove to ladle out a bowl for her.

VI.

The soup was delicious with its tender meat that easily stripped off the bone, swimming in the soup along with the medley of cut vegetables. The broth was a vibrant red that held a little spice to it, as every sip she swallowed began to build a heat in her mouth. Olivier later would find out that she loved most of the cuisine that she ate in Ishval.

A few days later, Olivier was in a section of the city where her men were currently working on and she was pleased to see the same efficiency in their work despite them not being in Briggs. While most of the rubble had been cleared, there was a building that was still left there; there was signs of it being cleaned out with some strewn rocks and pieces of building itself cleared away from any of the doorways to its interior.

“That building was a small museum.” One of her men explained. “I think Miles is currently in there working on what he can recover.”

Olivier strode over to the nearest entry way and found herself in a tiny room. There were a few wooden crates opened, with straw in them and a few artifacts wrapped in cloth already nestled in there. There was a large wooden beam striking the roof of the room as an extra support, to be honest it looked like a hazard to be inside. She studied the well-weathered, opens scrolls on the desk. On the aged paper, there was what she guessed to be ancient Ishvalan text. Next to the writing was a drawing, it looked like a ceremonial proceeding was being depicted, with bits of gold interspersed on it to accentuate the art.

“Mina, how may times have I told you-Oh!” Miles had walked in from another entrance that led further into the building; arms full of more scrolls. “I’m sorry.”

Olivier waved off his apology. “I shouldn’t have intruded either way. Especially since you’ll only remain here for some time before heading back to Aerugo, the last thin I want to do is impede your work.”

“Well, yes. I guess I am on borrowed time.” Miles looked uncomfortable at the mention of the remaining time he had left. They had spoken with each other, conversations spread throughout the days she had so far been there. Olivier liked him enough, but she was a little disconcerted at the fluttering in her stomach that happened whenever she spoke with him. They were a rather annoying occurrence.

“Sca- Atlan,” Olivier corrected herself. “He mentioned that you had initial skepticism about this project.”

“I did.”

Olivier studied him. “So, what made you come to Ishval in the first place?”

“Mina.” Miles answered her. “Her fiancé, Vas, and his family wanted to return here so she packed her bags and that was that.”

Olivier tilted her head, that really didn’t answer her question and she saw that the connection between those two things was still unclear to her.

“Ah,” Miles caught himself before he clarified. “My mother, while hesitant of my sister coming here, gave her, her blessings.”

“You don’t like the guy?”

“Oh, not at all! Vas is a respectful man, who loves my sister, but I did have reservations of them returning here.” Miles walked by her to place the scrolls on an empty spot on the desk. “I wanted to see with my own eyes if she would be safe here.”

He leaned against the desk, crossing his arms, He was a lot closer in proximity to her and she was able to notice his cologne, a bit of rosewood mixed with a scent that was all him.

“My father died somewhere here, we don’t know where, along with my grandfather. The war was getting bad, so my father wanted to bring my grandfather to our house, to safety, but they never made it home.”

VII.

Olivier was not good at social interactions and the knowledge that Miles and his family moved back to his maternal grandmother’s home country after the death of his father and grandfather explained a lot. Buccaneer would’ve chided her right about now, using the nickname that her mother used for her from one of the letters he had for some inept reason opened in front of him- that was the last time she also did.

_“Oh, Livie-kins, you shouldn’t press people, you may never know what you might find out.”_

Thank Truth, Buccaneer was not here. Olivier had also been struck speechless when Miles had confided that at that time, he was considering in joining the military. She immediately saw him in military uniform and damn, she would not have minded seeing that at but then Order #3066 fitted through her mind and she wondered what would have happened to him. Her blood chilled at the though of him being stripped of whatever rank he would have acquired by then and sent off to Ishval for the alchemists to finish the rest just a few months later.

Olivier could see the benefits of having a mind like his at Ft. Briggs, observant and keen to details. He was no slouch and he would have made an impression to the organization there- a damn loss to them, that’s for sure.

Her stay was nearing its end and she unexpectedly felt a bit reluctant to leave this place. It was calming and relaxing even though remnants of destruction was around them. The people had been more inviting than she anticipated, and their hospitality certainly exceeded any she had ever experienced.

She got along well with Miles’ sister, who exhibited the same calm and observant demeanor as him except for her eyes that held a bit of childish mischief that was usually directed at her older brother. Between inspections and updates, Scar had shown her some of the work they were planning for future projects, but for the cultural aspects of Ishval, Miles was at her side. She realized after a few times that she did not mind at all.

As her last hour winded down, she grabbed her suitcase and slowly descended the stairs and headed to the kitchen. Scar was sitting at the dinner table, instead of a bowl of soup in front of him like the first day- he had papers laid out across the surface.

“I apologize again, for not being able to drop you off at the station.”

“Your hosting skills need work.” She deadpanned but gave him a small smirk. “This visit was reassuring for the future of the country.”

“A strong foundation in the making.”

“Yes, most definitely a strong one.” She agreed.

VIII.

The ride back to the station was held in companionable silence. Olivier sneaked a glance at Miles; the last two days he seemed a bit off. She did not know if he had finally decided on staying or not; but if he didn’t, it would be a loss for them- not that they have tried to guilt him into it.

But it was there in the sullen mood that Scar would get at the mention that his days were numbered. His sister would also do her best to hide the notion that his decision to leave made her unhappy. She could see in Mina’s demeanor that she was happy to be with her fiancé, but she also would not mind having a member of her family with her as well. Mina knew of course that his stay was never permanent and welcomed how longer he had stayed for her. Olivier, herself, did not know what to feel. She felt bouts of disappointment and the thought of never seeing him left her with a heavy feeling down to the pit of her stomach- a dead weight that threatened to drag down her mood as well.

The sound of the engine turning off made her realized that they had arrived. She exited and with a rather tight grip on her suitcase began to walk towards the train with Miles at her side.

“Uh,” Miles started, as they faced each other for a farewell. “I-um.”

This was the first time Olivier saw the man stutter and unsure of himself.

“I’m staying.” He said finally. “Here, in Ishval. I just need to return for some unfinished business and to let my mother and brother know. A letter wouldn’t be the proper way to do it and it’s a surprise for Mina as well.”

Olivier felt a rise of euphoria within her at the news.

Miles smiled. “I figured I should help in their history, you know, help the people. My grandfather used to always say ‘the death of a culture is the death of its people.’ If this is the only way I can keep their memories alive, it’s a job I’m more than willing to do.”

“Glad you think so; we would have definitely lost a competent person. I’m sure your sister and Atlan will be happy about it.”

With their final farewells done, she turned a bit reluctantly. Their goodbye was a bit- She huffed; she was unsure of how to describe it. She was left wanting, of what she did not know and the flutters she experienced being near him, with him, only grew into a warmth that she never felt around anyone else. As the train began to speed away, she glanced back at the man with the high ponytail and sharp jaw. She was barely leaving, and she already wanted to see him again.

IX.

Buccaneer was not her closest friend for nothing. The man was able to notice her laxed and morose state within the hour. Her temper was nowhere with her the first few days back at the fort and after a bit of needling, he was able to guess the reason which ended with him teasing her now and then when they were alone.

“Now, I want to meet this guy, Olivier. Can I go meet him? Can I write to him, at least?”

“Sure, I’ll put that on the list right after I invite Alex to Ft. Briggs of my own free will.”

Olivier had started a correspondence with Miles and the butterflies grew worse when another of his letters would arrive. With Scar and Miles writing to her, she had a more well-rounded update on the state over there. She enjoyed reading his quips and observations and she could see that he had an excellent reading of others.

It was half a year later when one of his letters came with a wedding invitation for Vas and Mina’s wedding; an event that would occur in four months’ time.

X.

A little over a year since that first visit and here she was on the train again back to Ishval; and the anticipation within her increased as the distance lessened. As the train lurched into a complete stop, she stood and stretched her arms before gathering her suitcase and headed out.

The moment her eyes found Scar, she felt disappointment emanate within her and a bit of irrational anger at herself for even feeling these kinds of emotions. It was sickening and yet…

She was excited to see Miles again; the letters were not enough. Olivier was flummoxed that in her periods of solitude, her thoughts drifted to him- which to her was incredibly stupid, for she had seen the man only once for a brief stay. She learned more about him through their written exchange and every new piece of that he shared with her made her like him even more.

“Expecting someone else?” Scar asked, amusement shining in his eyes despite his stoic expression.

“Were you?”

The second those words left her lips; Olivier knew that was a shitty comeback. She gritted her teeth and shot a withering glare to Atlan, just daring him to say anything.

And since they had become friends at some point during their letters, he felt comfortable enough to gently tease her on the drive back.

XI.

Olivier stood next to Scar during the wedding ceremony. Busy soaking in her surroundings, making comparisons between this one and the few she had been to when she was a young girl, piqued at the cultural differences.

Miles was standing on the other side of Olivier now after giving his sister away with his mother. He was dressed in an ivory-colored tunic that reached a little above mid-thigh, a strip of black around the cuffs and neck of the garment. On the black strips there were purple eight-pointed stars with a red dot between them in a pattern. Along with the tunic, Miles opted for more form-fitting, black trousers than the loose ones that some of the guests had chosen and ended his attire with polished boots.

His brother, Jules, was dressed in a similar outfit as his older brother. Despite having the same shape in lips, nose, and eyebrows, the similarities ended there. His younger brother had the same fair skin and dark hair as his mother and sister, with a reddish tint to his. Miles told her he had inherited that color from their maternal grandfather and when Jules was younger his hair was a vibrant orange red that had muted down as he got older. His hair was at a length where it could be barely be gathered up into a ponytail, not that he would style it like that; it was arranged in a way that made him look almost feral which made all the young women swoon when he would make hos way around the town. His emerald eyes certainly helped as well, popping out among the sea of red ones. All the mischief and exuberance that skipped over Mina and Miles was inherited by Jules, who spoke at a mile a minute, usually such chatterboxes would have annoyed Olivier, but the topics he would avidly speak about was technological development and advancements- a subject in which they held heavy discussions about on the days before the wedding.

Their mother was standing in between her two sons and looked far younger than her actual age. A woman with an immense aptitude in reading her children well, especially Jules. If Mina liked to cause mischief for Miles, Jules took it to the extreme; their banter had been entertaining to watch until Francine put a stop to it. Olivier could easily see how Mina would look later in life through Francine.

 

XII.

The food was something that Olivier missed. Although she could have done without being seated at the same table as Mustang although Hawkeye assisted in mitigating his annoying meddling.

“I know you exchanged letters with Miles, but I didn’t know you two where _that_ close.” He said this all with a smile that was too wide and amused plastered on her face.

Olivier wished she could stab her fork in his hand instead of the deliciously, spiced meat.

“So much charm only to end up in the third row?” She whispered back to him. Hawkeye did a bad attempt at hiding her amusement behind a cough and Scar had to cover his mouth as he had been sipping on his glass of spiced wine.

Mustang’s Cheshire grin sipped from his face, a petulant frown taking its place.

Olivier one, Mustang zero.

XIII.

The celebration was in full swing with people dancing and weaving to the rhythm of the music. Olivier stood near the side of the open tent, placing more attention to the numerous stars in the night sky than the people.

“I hope I’m not imposing my presence on you.”

Olivier felt an immense happiness within her springing up from just hearing his voice.

“Not at all.” She replied, turning around to face Miles.

“Can we step away for a moment?” He asked. “I have something to show you.”

With an acquiescent nod, the strolled away from the mass of people until they were at a respectable distance away from the wedding party.

Miles slipped his hand into his jacket and brought out several pages stapled together, it looked aged by the weathered folds and slightly yellow hue.

“I found this when I was packing my possessions.”

He offered it to her, and she took the papers in her hands. She looked at the familiar application for the Amestrian military. Olivier knew he had expressed interest in joining but that soon died along with his father and grandfather; it was another thing seeing it on paper, his neat and tiny writing across the boxes of the application.

Name: Ira Milos Miles

She smiled at his full name, remembering the day he confided it to her.

XIV.

“Thank you for being so welcoming and for being given the honor in sitting with your family. I’m guessing it’s a big deal at Ishvalan weddings.”

“Oh.” Miles was placing the papers back into the inside of his jacket. They had spent several minutes discussing what to do with it, laughing at what the expression might be on the recruiter’s face seeing an application more than a decade old. “Mina specifically said to do so.”

“Ah.” Olivier did not realize how thoroughly engaged her emotions for Miles were so much more than friendship until a needle of pain shot through her heart at those words. “Well, I should go thank her before she leaves the festivities.”

She headed off back to the wedding tent unaware of Miles’ crestfallen, the face of knowing he had muddled things up.

Stepping back into the slight warmth coming from the mass of the people, she was determined to give her thanks and leave, having tired of all celebrations for the night.

Olivier spotted Mina in the crowd next her husband with a small group of well-wishers. She made her way over, surprised at the sudden onslaught of emotions that came over her. She’d rather be by herself to process and contain any small outbursts of feelings coursing through her. She felt a bit stupid at having misread Miles’ intentions.

Their exchange in the letters was different than the one she had with Scar. Olivier enjoyed reading them, every news and tidbit of Ishval, his family, and most importantly, himself; the new information that made him, Miles, was written with his hand just for her eyes. A small, neat penmanship that she grew fond of seeing when sifting through her mail.

Mina seeing her approach, quickly excused herself and met her halfway; leaving her husband to talk with a circle of people around them.

“Thank you for coming, Major General.”

“It was an honor for attending and thank you for having me in such high regard to be seated with your family during the ceremony.”

Mina looked at her with a slight frown on her face, the only time she resembled her older brother was in the furrowed brows and tightened lips.

“Yes, I would’ve assigned you that seat either way, but it was Miles who first brought it up.” Mina’s frown turned into an impish smile as if she knew something Olivier did not.

Olivier simply dismissed that smile as Mina being Mina, “Well, I’m calling it a night. Congratulations to you and Vas.”

“You shouldn’t walk back to the house by yourself.” Mina protested, she looked over to where Miles was standing with Atlan, a forlorn expression on his face. “Miles!”

“It’s not a problem-” Olivier began, but when it came to Mina, she was more stubborn than her. She knew that Mina knew that she could handle herself, it was more of a continuing hospitality- an Ishvalan social etiquette.

Miles walked over with Scar tagging along.

“Olivier wants to head back to the house,” Mina explained. “Can you please escort her?”

“Sure.”

“I’m also ending it here too.” Atlan announced, making his way to follow them. “Goodnight Mina, many blessings from Ishvala to you and Vas.”

“Actually,” Mia began, keeping a hold on the hand that Scar offered for handshake. “Vas has some inquiries about some of the upcoming projects planned.”

Mina started to tow Scar towards her husband when she gave Olivier and Miles a glance back. “Don’t wait up for him!”

After a sizable distance, Mina took a second glance back at her older brother and the Major General that had stolen his heart and from what she had observe the past several days when not immersed in final wedding preparation plans, Miles had taken hers. She wondered if they would ever confess to each other how they felt, it wouldn’t be easy for two emotionally stunted people. “Those idiots.”

XV.

The atmosphere between them was thick with awkward tension. Every step they took sounded louder as the merriment from the wedding got quieter. There was a slight chill in the air, a nip of coldness that reminded Olivier of the weather up north.

The silence never broke as they reached the house. Miles walked across the darkened hallway fixated on turning the light on in the house.

Olivier watched as the room was illuminated and eased away from the table she had unknowingly been walking towards, quite grateful that she did not hit her shins on it. She looked over at Miles who stood in sheepish contemplation with one of his hand rubbing at his neck. A tic that he tended to do whenever he was nervous, one she had noticed from her last time here.

She nodded at him in farewell. “Well, goodnight.”

“Wait.” Oliver felt his hand wrap around her wrist preventing her from going any further. His grip wasn’t harsh or uncomfortable, it was firm and warm- and it sent a sharp jolt through her. She looked up at his eyes, a world of conflicting emotions swirling in his scarlet eyes. “Mina was onboard with having you stand with my family, but it was my idea to begin with. The only reason I did not tell you that it was my idea is because I was not sure what you would think of it. The last thing I wanted to do was put you off or make you uncomfortable with any of this.”

He pointed back and forth between the two of them.

“And when have I given any indication that I was put off with any of this, in words or writing?”

She wanted to roll her eyes but instead parroted his motion with her free hand, a happy nervousness bubbling within her; the realization that it was not only her that felt something.

His other hand brushed the lock of hair that covered the right side of her face, ending with cupping her jaw. “So, you’re alright with this?” He whispered, inching closer.

“More than alright.” She closed the last few inches, their lips finally meeting.

The kiss they shared was intoxicating and she never wanted it to end. She freed her hand from his slackened hold and held his face firmly in both her hands as his slipped down to her hips, neither wanting to end the physical contact between them.

If his kisses were good, waking up the following morning next to him was even better.

**Author's Note:**

> Writing Olivier falling in love/in love is rather difficult, but I think these emotions, ones that she does not place focus on or much importance on would be the ones that would surprise her when they do bubble up within her.


End file.
